September 19th
by ShadowedSoulSpirit
Summary: It all happened on September 19th. One body and one heart simultaneously shattered. A short story dedicated to the dangers of texting and driving. Rated T for death, and USUK.


**September 19th**

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**An America short story.**

**THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO RAISE AWARENESS ABOUT TEXTING AND DRIVING.**

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A heart and a body were shattered one faithful day, on a misty autumn morning during September. Dawn was only beginning to greet the residents of the world, leaving most of the surface in darkness. America could recall everything that happened, everything he did. He could tell you exactly where he was, why he was there, who he was with, etc., with the dexterity of a limitless memory. In fact, that is the only day he can recall with perfect clarity, like he was watching it before his very eyes. It haunted him like a ghost he feared so greatly. Persistent it became, making every instance in his life a very reminder of it. By the anniversary of said date, a full 365 days after the fact, he still finds himself waking up in the middle of the night, screaming.

He follows his younger brother, Canada, into a school auditorium. He wasn't sure he could carry through with this. Many times America tried to talk, revealing what he had done on several occasions, but each time the very thought of speaking about it made him violently ill.

_At least I made it to the parking lot._ He thought bitterly.

Canada casts glances his way, making sure that his brother is indeed following him, and didn't run off and hide like the last time. Sullen, the eldest follows the younger to the stage, in view of a hundred or so high school students chattering amongst themselves. At the sight of America, however, they stop, staring up at him with the curiosity of a school child. They have all heard stories of a personified country, but none of them have had the opportunity to see one in person. It struck them in awe. With the help of France, Canada adjusts the sound system positioned out of sight, and then locates the appropriate microphone. He hands it to him, giving thumbs up that everything is in working order, before receding off the stage. America just stood there, his hands sweating with an explainable fear sweeping into him. His heart thuds so heavily in his chest that he wonders vaguely if his heart could smash his ribs. All the eyes of the high school facility peer up at him, waiting for him to do something. Like the fish out of water he is feeling, he opens his mouth, and then closes it, trying to come up with something to do as well. He has never managed to make it this far, onto the stage, so he never exactly practiced what he was going to say.

"Introduce yourself." Canada urges, anxiously watching his brother's flushed face for any signs of a break down. He knows when it happens, it escalates quickly, so he has to be prepared to rescue him at any given moment.

Finally, his heart dies down long enough that he figures he can speak over it, "I'm Alfred F. Jones… but most of you would know me by America." His voice is finicky and very shaky. Without the assistance of a microphone, he wouldn't be audible.

"I've come here to tell you my story…"

He is feeling sick by now, his stomach churning so violent that he could almost taste the bile in his throat. He has to persevere though. _He _would want him too. Using this to gather courage, America begins recounting his tale from beginning to end, with no breaks in-between.

"It was September 19, 2012, approximately 8:12. It was a sort of misty, rainy day, but it wasn't so bad. The roads were still visible. At that time, I was attending several courses at the World Academy, and drove there often in my 1997 Chevrolet. Red. I picked up my boyfriend, England at around 8:05. He was happy to see me. He tossed his backpack into the back, and snuggled up against me per usual.

"That was my first mistake. I didn't tell him to buckle up. We headed for our class when my phone began going off. I pulled it out to see who it was, like I would normally do in a situation like that. By then, England had practically fallen asleep against me, since he didn't enjoy going to school. That was my second mistake. I took my eyes off the road."

His chest is growing taunt, like something is practically squeezing the air out of him. It feels like not enough breath is getting into his lungs. Very shakingly, visibly affected by his story, America continues as he hears the slide show turn on behind him.

"This was the text."

He turns to look at it.

**Have u told Iggy u loved him yet?**

In that instance, he could feel himself being thrown back into the car. He saw the flashing lights, he felt the steering wheel jerk from his single hand. He heard the skid and the crunch of metal against metal, the sudden rain of glass. He heard the screams, and the silence, because the seat beside him was empty. Because he had taken his eyes off the road, he crashed into the back of a police car trying to make a routine stop. Having worn a seatbelt, America escaped the crash with a few scrapes and bruises.

America chokes on a few sobs, wanting to finish off what he has started. Canada grows more anxious, knowing this could push his brother over the edge.

"The truth is, I never got to tell England I loved him. He was projected from my vehicle that was traveling at 80 miles. He was thrown at the same speed approximately 176 feet away from my truck. He landed head first, and died instantaneously. The Docs say if he would have lived, he would have been permanently paralyzed and blind. But it doesn't make it any easier.

"I mean, I just killed the person I loved! And for what? So I could answer that godforsaken text? Because of that I never got the chance to tell him!"

Hot tears are pouring down his face, in a mixture of fury and grief, from having relived his own stupidity all over again.

"It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it all! Don't text and drive. Ever."

Silence greets him, but he is not finished. One more line escapes his lips, before he feels himself detaching from the rest of the world.

"If you do, you'll end up with a permanent September 19th in your head, and you'll forever carry that burden until you reach your grave."

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**DO NOT TEXT AND DRIVE! THIS IS NOT ONLY A FICTIONALIZED EVENT, BUT A TRUE POSSIBLITY. ONE TEXT IS NOT WORTH ONE LIFE.**

**-Soul Spirit-**


End file.
